Troy Milbourne holds a photograph of his son, Tyler Bassett, who relatives said was rarely in a picture alone because people were always around him.

MILLVILLE — Police continued the search for Tyler Bassett’s murderer Wednesday as his family described a young man who wanted to become a Hollywood cameraman, was a gifted athlete and, above all, was loved by those around him.

“My son is dead,” said his stepfather Troy Milbourne. “I’d like for people to know who he was. He was a typical teenager. He had a father who loved him, a brother who loved him, a sister who loved him. He touched a lot of people old and young and he was a very liked person.”

Milbourne and his wife, Debbie Cintron, as well as Bassett’s aunt, Mika Cintron, said they were shocked to read an article listing offenses he had been charged with as a 15- and 16-year-old.

“It was just general mischief. I want to say it was juvenile stuff,” said Milbourne.

A female cousin of his who is five years older, but chose not to be named, recalled between tears that if he was mischievous with her, it was always in a harmless manner.

“He was just the most happy and playful person. He always wanted to play around and was always pulling jokes on people. We used to beat each other up all the time when we were little. I remember his mom yelling at him and he thought it was so funny,” she said over the phone.

Milbourne explained that he is actually Bassett’s stepfather.

“I’ve been in his life since he was 1,” he said, adding that his real father never knew him. He and Bassett’s mother remained together in Millville until about five years ago, when he said they simply fell out of love.

“We moved here and he stayed with me,” he said, referring to their home on Gould Avenue.

He and Cintron were married and they, Bassett, and his younger brother and sister lived there for the past four years.

Milbourne said he played football and baseball throughout his years at Bacon Elementary and Lakeside Charter School, and showed potential.

“A coach told me he was good enough for Division I,” said Milbourne.

In addition to his athletic prowess, Mika Cintron said he had a potent mind.

“He loved to read. He would always take books from my house and I would have to make sure I got them back,” she said.

Milbourne said he was particularly interested in math and history at school. The principal at the Cumberland Regional night school he had just enrolled in this year was trying to find additional course work for him because the normal curriculum was not challenging enough.

Bassett had said he wanted to go on to college to learn how to become a filmmaker.

“He wanted to learn to be a cameraman. He said his dream was to be a cameraman on a Hollywood movie set,” said Milbourne.

The dream had been briefly derailed by his time in a juvenile detention center, but his father said he was in the midst of changing for the better.

“Last Friday was his first day back in school,” he said. “He had off Monday and he was supposed to go back Tuesday before all of this happened.”

No one in the family is sure why he was on Buck Street the night of the shooting.

They said he did not know the two girls who a witness had originally described as fighting, and his cousin said she believed the shooting had been gang-related.

“I don’t believe they’ll ever find out who did it,” she said. “Anyone who lives in Millville knows what areas are gang related or not. Everybody says the Bloods hang out on Buck Street. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Mika Cintron said he had called her up shortly before the shooting and said he was coming home.

Milbourne had last seen him that morning, when he said he was riding his bicycle to the bus stop so he could go to the store.

The next call he received was from a relative saying Bassett had been shot and was on his way to South Jersey Healthcare-Regional Medical Center.

“I hauled ass up there,” he said.

He managed to see his son briefly in the emergency room, although he was under heavy sedation. Milbourne said the bullet severed three of Bassett’s arteries, and that the hospital’s response was less than sufficient.

“The doctor said he’d never done that sort of surgery before. He said he’d be better taken care of at Cooper (University Hospital),” said Milbourne.

“Why do we even have a trauma unit, if everyone has to go to Atlantic City or Cooper?”

The problem, explained by spokesman Greg Potter, is that the hospital does not have a trauma unit.

“The state regulates how many there are in a region. And honestly, I can’t speak with too much authority, but that’s a state regulated service. You can’t just open up a trauma center. The state regulates where the trauma centers are needed. So when we opened the Regional Medical Center, if the state determined one was needed, we could have applied to do that, but the southern part of the state is covered by Atlantic City and Cooper,” he said.

As Bassett was flown to Cooper, Milbourne said he “...burned rubber down (Route) 55.”He felt the efforts to save his son’s life at that hospital were also insufficient.

“They told us we would have an option on what to do. After we were sitting there for hours, the doctor basically came and told us to say goodbye because they were not doing anything else,” he said.

On Monday morning, surrounded by what Milbourne estimated were 10 to 15 family and close friends who had driven up, Bassett passed away.

“I felt like they could have done more,” said Milbourne.

Bassett will be buried in the Gouldtown cemetery.

His viewing will be held Monday at Bethel Pentecostal Church on South Avenue in Bridgeton from 10 a.m. to noon, at which point his funeral will begin.

His cousin is concerned that his murderers will never have to face justice.

“It’s not like he died in a car accident or something like that, he was murdered. For the police to say they have no suspects or to say they don’t have any information at all, it’s very sad,” she said.

Milbourne said he would just like anyone with information to contact the police.

“I’d like to have closure, so if anyone has any information would they please contact the Millville police department?” he asked.

“I know my son wasn’t an angel, but he was trying to turn his life around. It ended before it really started though, because he was only 17.”